AN: Thanks again for all of your reviews, they keep me going x.

His glass is empty and his world is wobbly, but he's still conscious. That must count for something, but whether it's a good something or a bad something he can't decide. He squints over at the door, vaguely aware of someone entering the tent.

"Hawkeye!"

"What?" He's drunk, but, as far as he's concerned, not drunk enough.

Trapper walks over to check the still, trying to see if there's any gin left in it."You should probably stop now."

"But I can still feel myself."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Leave me alone," he mumbles, rolling so that his face pressed into his pillow.

Trapper moves to stand over his friend, "Hey, what's that you're holding," Trapper enquires, tilting his head to get a better look, "it wouldn't happen to be the silk robe Frank and Hot Lips were yelling about, would it?"

"Never heard of it."

Trapper rolled his eyes. "You're allowed to miss her, y'know."

"Who?"

"Hawk.."

The door opens and Frank enters the tent. "Hey," he says, narrowed eyes on Hawkeye, slowing to a stop, "that's Margaret's robe!"

Hawkeye rolls his eyes. "Really, Frank? I thought it was one of yours."

"You're a thief, that's what you are. You're a thief and she's a whore! You two belong together!"

Hawkeye clumsily tries to get up off his bunk so that he can take a swing at Frank. "Shove off, Frank!"

"You wish!"

Trapper steps in before violence can erupt for the second time in as many days. "Get out of the tent, Frank!"

"I'm going to see Colonel Blake about this!

"You do that!" Hawkeye yells after him, sitting back down on his bed heavily. "Someone get me a pen, and some paper."

"What for?"

"I need to write a letter."

"To Margaret?"

"No, to dad. I need to tell him about Margaret."

"I thought you already did."

"He needs to know that underneath all those rules and regulations, she's alright! What if they hate each other? What if she leaves and I never see her or our kid again?"

"She wouldn't."

"How you know? How do I know? We barely even know her, not really. We only know her in an army setting. Are you gonna help me or not?"

"Sure, if it'll make you feel better. Where are your writing things, in your footlocker?"

"No, over there on the shelf."

"Right, there you go."

"Thanks, I owe you one. Okay, here goes. "Dear dad…"


Her bus is already in when Daniel arrives, and the passengers are collecting their bags from the luggage hold underneath. He spots her immediately. It's not her army uniform that gives her away, nor the olive drab bag in her hand, but the stiff way she's holding herself, and the uncertainty in her eyes. She's not entirely what he'd expected. She's both bigger and smaller than he thought she'd be. She's taller, though not so much that you'd consider her tall, she's also narrower and blonder than he'd imagined, but he can tell immediately that she's no pushover. She's not a traditional picture of beauty, either, but with her high cheekbones and sharp, intelligent eyes she's definitely something. Daniel steps out of the crowd and into her line of sight as she reaches the gate.

"Margaret?"

"Yes, sir. You're Daniel Pierce, I presume?"

"The one and only. Welcome to Maine."

"Thank you, sir."

She's very official, he notes, very formal, though that fitted in with her being the fabled "Hot Lips" who used to go around with Frank Burns. There was obviously more to her, though, or none of this would be happening.

"Have you ever been to Maine before?"

"I haven't. We travelled around a lot when I was a kid, followed dad wherever he was posted, but he was never sent up here."

"Guess there's not much army happening in Maine. You got much luggage?"

"Just this and my duffle bag."

"The army really has you travelling light, huh."

Margaret nods curtly but says no more.

This one was really going to need some warming up. She doesn't seem rude, however, just careful, closed, wary. Possibly not used to kindness? He didn't know, but he also didn't get the impression that this is the kind of woman who'd be here if she didn't want to be.

"Car's this way, then it's about an hour's drive home to the cove. It really is pretty out there at this time of year, I hope you like it."

"Oh I'm sure I will," she says, her voice still giving away little.

He wasn't perturbed, though, more intrigued. She was a puzzle, this whole thing was a puzzle, and he was quite interested to find out how it all fitted together.


The car ride home is a mostly silent affair. Margaret takes in the sights out the window. The world is out there is made of shades of green, and a lot of the buildings she's seen have very European stylings. Daniel tries a few times to start conversation, but doesn't push it when it falls flat. She can feel him watching her, quietly analysing her. His son isn't the only one with observant eyes. There's a lot about him that's familiar: some mannerisms, the colour his eyes, but he has a quietness about him, a patience, a stillness, that Hawkeye hasn't mastered. They drive in silence for what feels like an age as she stares out the side window. Daniel silently navigates the road ahead.

Turning his head to look at her he asks, "Are you okay?"

The question catches her completely off guard, and without warning she crumbles, a quiet sob breaking free.

Daniel takes one look at her before pulling over to the side of the road.

"Hey, it's okay. It's gonna be alright, shhh." He reaches over and tentatively puts a comforting hand on her back.

"This isn't quite what you had planned, is it?"

Tearfully she shakes her head at him.

"I know it can't be easy dealing with all of this unknown, but if there's anything I can do to make it easier for you, you let me know, alright?"

She nods uselessly at him, slightly bewildered at the stark contrast between Hawkeye's father and her own.

Daniel takes her hand and gives it a quick squeeze, before reaching into his pocket to fetch her a clean handkerchief. "Are you hungry at all? Because I was thinking we might stop somewhere for food on the way back to the house. Does that sound okay?"

The beginnings of a watery but genuine smile graces Margaret's lips.

"That would be lovely, thank you."


The mood in the Officer's club is subdued, and Henry isn't feeling a whole lot perkier. They're down one excellent head nurse and had a head surgeon who'd been trying to pickle himself in gin ever since she'd left. Henry looks up when Trapper sits down at the bar next to him, his expression glum.

"How's he holding up?"

"He drank the still dry."

"Damn. Has anyone tried telling him that if he pickles his liver he won't be much good to Margaret or their kid? Gosh that's weird, isn't it, saying "their kid" referring to those two."

"Uhuh, who'd have thunk it: Hawkeye and Hot Lips making a baby."

"It'll be terrifying. Imagine a kid like both of them."

"No thanks. With their combined willpower it'll probably try to take over the world."

Henry chuckles before sobering. "Did he really try to punch Frank again? I had Burns in my office before yelling about Pierce threatening him."

"He did, but to be fair, Frank had just accused him of being a thief and insulted Margaret."

"Never thought I'd see the day Pierce was defending her against Burns. He seems to really care about her, doesn't he."

"He does. He's over there driving himself nuts worrying that she and his dad won't get along, and that she'll disappear with the kid."

"The Major may be terrifying, but I doubt she'd do that to him."

"Me either. I'm amazed that she agreed to go and stay with his dad in the first place."

"It is unlike her, though I'm beginning to feel like there's a lot we never knew about her. Maybe she likes him too, they seemed to be pretty damned into each other when they got into this mess." Henry sighs. "Do you think Pierce will be okay? Because the last thing I wanna have to do is have him shipped home because he's unable to do his job."

"I'm not sure. We're gonna have to keep an eye on him."

"How's this: We'll give him another week, and if he's still like this I'll call Sidney."

"And we should probably move Frank out of the Swamp, Because if Hawkeye doesn't kill him for all the garbage he's throwing around, I might."

"Okay, we'll find Burns somewhere else to live."

"Thanks, Henry."

Henry's left once more to his own devices and takes a deep sigh, swigging his beer.

This was not the kind of chaos he'd been expecting when he'd signed up for this job.